


blessing in disguise

by sassymajesty



Series: clexaweek19 [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clexaweek2019, F/F, tinder au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 15:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20392072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassymajesty/pseuds/sassymajesty
Summary: In one last desperate attempt to entertain herself, she downloads Tinder. As any single person her age, Clarke has dabbled with Tinder before, her trust in the app’s algorithm diminishing with every new failed date. She does know a couple success stories, but has compiled far too many horror stories to ever try to find love in there again.





	blessing in disguise

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so late for day five of Clexa week that I don't even have anything to say in my defense. But I did have fun writing this, and I hope y'all enjoy it!
> 
> You can find the moodboard for this story [here](https://sassymajesty.tumblr.com/post/187265282143)!

Clarke wants to punch someone.

She knows no one in this airport is responsible for her flight being delayed five hours, but she still thinks that a few good punches will help – nevermind she has the upper body strength of a wet noodle and she’s only run if a demon ghost were chasing her. It’s no one’s fault that a snow storm announced for three days from now hit them earlier. It’s no one’s fault that the pilot can barely see where they’re going and if they land at all, will be a victory.

At this point, she just wants to  _ do _ something, even if it’s something that’ll land her in jail for the night. Because she’s exhausted all and any form of entertainment she could have in this airport, and she’s bored out of her mind.

When they announced her flight wouldn’t be landing until  _ at least _ five hours from now, Clarke shrugged, grabbed her sketchbook and started to draw the people in front of her – everyone in varying degrees of annoyed. Seven pages in, and she gave up on it, her neck hurting, her hand covered in charcoal. Then she got something to eat, mostly to pass the time and make a hole in her bank account, browsing Facebook. 

Barely an hour later, she had already stalked everyone in there, even her goddamn  _ ex _ , seen every funny post anyone has posted in the last three days, and confirmed three events she won’t even be in the city for.

Groaning and putting her phone down, Clarke dug into her bag to find the three books she had brought with her. It’d be enough to keep her busy for a solid half of the eight hours of flight between New York and Naples. Right now, nothing sounds good enough.

She feels antsy. Being trapped somewhere without knowing where she can leave and get a move on never worked well for her. 

Part of her wants to grab her bags and walk out, cancel everything she had planned for in Italy and waste her oh so hard earned vacations in this frigid city. She can find a way to explore New York like she hasn’t lived here all of her life, find touristy things to do, endure the cold she wants so badly to flee from.

And it seems like she’s not the only one. All around her, people fiddle with their phones while letting out exasperated sighs, switch from one seat to another as if that would make time go by faster, chase around cranky three year olds that don’t know what to do with themselves.

In one last desperate attempt to entertain herself, she downloads Tinder. As any single person her age, Clarke has dabbled with Tinder before, her trust in the app’s algorithm diminishing with every new failed date. She does know a couple success stories, but has compiled far too many horror stories to ever try to find love in there again.

Still, it’s a good way to pass the time. She starts fresh, choosing each picture carefully, wording her bio just right – it’s nothing much, but it does eat away a good portion of her time. When her profile is ready, Clarke sets her distance to as far as it can go, and starts swiping through the potential matches.

Mostly, she swipes left. Because truth be told, she’s  _ not _ looking for a relationship or a “Netflix and chill” date, and she is leaving the country for a month and a half after all. She just wants to see pretty people and read funny bios, maybe entertain herself until her flight is called.

For a good while, entertained she  _ certainly _ is. Between mediocre dudes listing all the qualities she’s sure they  _ do not _ have, and pretty girls that won’t ever be a good match for her, Clarke finds some gems.

A girl wearing scrubs from the same hospital Clarke works at has "Respiratory therapy student. Cute enough to take your breath away, smart enough to bring it back." as her bio, and it’s almost enough for her to swipe right. She finds a bio make to look like a movie blurb, ex-boyfriends ratings and comments included, and more than one person needing dates for weddings. There’s some guy announcing his girlfriend’s hair salon – this one she does swipe right, to get the Instagram account so she can get her hair done when she’s back.

Clarke comes across a  _ very _ attractive woman, with only two pictures in her profile. In the first one, she’s wearing a three-piece suit, holding a champagne flute, and looking like she’s planning someone’s murder. In the second one, she’s sitting on the grass with a massive labrador beside her, her head thrown back in laughter, Central Park filling the scene. The bio is something simple –  _ CEO. Fantasy novels and Italian cuisine. Dog’s name is Gustus. _

Less than a mile away.

Before she can change her newfound habit of swiping left, the woman – Lexa, 32– is gone. 

“Hard no for that one?” 

A mocking voice comes from behind her and Clarke turns around, ready to ask what the fuck is their problem and why the fuck are they even looking at her phone. The answer tumbles and clings to the tip of her tongue when she finds the girl she just swiped left on looking at her with a smirk – something in between the two pictures, certainly amused. “Lexa?”

Those pictures really didn’t do her justice.

Sitting sideways on her chair, wearing a turtleneck sweater and her hair in a braid that falls over her shoulder, Lexa looks… Classy? Hot? Fucking stunning. Enough to give Clarke pause. And what really leave Clarke speechless for a solid moment are Lexa’s eyes – it’s dark, vibrant green, with an intensity to them that she doesn’t see often.

Lexa rests her arm on the top of her chair, leaning on her wrist, bringing herself closer to Clarke. “I’m not your type, huh?”

“That’s… that’s  _ really _ not it,” Clarke stammers. Feeling blindsided and slightly embarrassed, she can’t find the words to explain that 1. She was just browsing Tinder to pass the time; 2. Lexa is really fucking attractive and absolutely her type.

“It’s okay,” Lexa shrugs, closing her eyes for a moment, the smirk never leaving her lips, “I wouldn’t have swiped right on you either.”

Clarke makes an outraged noise, now fully turning around to face this woman. Her mind clears a little, enough that she can actually talk to Lexa instead of just staring awkwardly at her, and Clarke narrows her eyes. “Is it just payback for not swiping right on you, or are you always this rude?”

Lexa laughs. A genuine laughter, something Clarke would imagine she did in the second picture with her dog Gustus, in a sunny afternoon at the park. “It’s nothing personal. I don’t even know why I still have the app installed. A friend created the account for me.”

“Why, you don’t think you can find love in an app?” It’s not like Clarke believes that  _ she _ can, considering her collection of disastrous encounters. But if it keeps the pretty girl talking, she’ll pretend she does.

“I don’t have the time to build a relationship over text,” Lexa says, simply.

“Ah, yes. You’re a CEO,” Clarke catches it before Lexa says anything, quirking an eyebrow. She has little to no idea what the daily life of a CEO is like, but it sure doesn’t allow idle time to browse through endless profiles and make pointless conversation. She doesn’t comment that listing a job like that on Tinder isn’t the best idea for anyone involved.

“I feel like I’m at a disadvantage. I don’t even know your name.”

“Clarke, 31,” Clarke says, extending her hand over the backrest of both of their chairs for Lexa to shake. Which she does. Firmly. “Doctor. Italian is also my favorite food and I’d love to meet Gustus.”

Her saying a couple key information in the same manner Lexa did in her Tinder bio seems to both amuse and annoy Lexa, who rolls her eyes before smiling with some reluctance. “Cute.”

Now it’s Clarke who smiles. Half of her wants to be cheeky and thank Lexa for calling her cute, say that so is she. But then, something else pops in her mind. “Hey, how do I know you’re really the Tinder Lexa?”

Lexa frowns, confused, at quite a loss for words. “Because… I look just like her? And please don’t call me Tinder Lexa.”

Chuckling, because  _ Tinder Lexa _ does sound awful and she’s absolutely saving Lexa’s phone number as that once she gets it, Clarke points at the phone lying face down on a bag that might cost more than Clarke makes in a month. “Come on, show me your profile.”

Rolling her eyes yet again, Lexa picks up her phone and thumbs through the screens until she can bring her profile up. She turns it to Clarke, who makes a point to look at it thoughtfully for a few seconds, before nodding her approval. 

As Lexa thumbs away from her profile and into the main part of the app, the search runs for a couple seconds before bringing out her options. Clarke watches as the first profile appears, a mess of blonde hair holding a pink drink with her tongue sticking out – it’s her own profile.

“Oh. It’s you,” Lexa taps to open more options, and Clarke wants to swat it away from her hand. Which is hardly fair, she’ll agree. So, she sits back while Lexa reads her bio.  _ Out loud _ . “ _ I will drink you under the table. Don't believe me? Ask me out to a nice bar, with good music and good food, _ ” Lexa reads the first half in a theatrical voice, and Clarke feels her insides curling up and refusing to work for a moment. It’s nothing short of weird to have her bio, that she thought was witty and funny while writing it, read back to her. “ _ Eating pizza must be your second favorite thing to do in bed. _ ”

Clarke wants to explain herself. After a handful of bad dates and realizing most people only wanted a one night stand, Clarke resigned to expect just that as well, wrote her Tinder bio to show what she was up to, and carefully chose pictures that showed her party girl side. It’s easier that way, less messy, it doesn’t invite many questions. It speeds things up.

But as Lexa swipes through her pictures, Clarke starts to rethink it. 

After that first, mostly blurry picture, comes one from a few spring breaks ago, where she’s holding a beer in one hand and raising the other in the air, her bikini revealing more than would be prudent. The next one is her at a restaurant, smiling all nicely at the camera – her mom took that one. Then, there’s her at an indie festival, flower crown and crop top, where she was high the entire time without ever touching a joint. 

If it looks one dimensional, it’s because Clarke chose to craft her profile like that.

Her worries about what the woman she just met thinks about it vanish when Lexa looks at her dead in the eye and swipes left.

“You asshole,” Clarke chuckles, amused at the over the top gesture. It’s a good payback, and it seems to be just that, because Lexa takes the time to close the laptop she had open on her lap and store it away, turning more fully to Clarke.

“Have you ever gone on a date with someone you met here?” Lexa asks, sounding genuinely curious, like she can’t believe dating apps could ever work.

“Yea. It mostly ended in not great sex and never talking again,” Clarke cringes at the memories. She could count on one hand the times the sex was worth leaving her house for, but isn’t sure how many times she could have ended up dead in a ditch. It’s a risky business, dating apps. “Have you?”

Lexa shrugs. “Never even talked to anyone in there.”

“What? How come?” Clarke half yells – at this day and age, finding a millennial who never tried their luck on Tinder and doesn’t have a cautionary tale to tell is as rare as finding gold on the streets. “You’re missing out some golden opportunities, come on.” Clarke piles her bag on top of her luggage and wheels it around the row of chairs so she can sit beside Lexa and avoid them both a stiff neck, “How long until your flight?”

“I’m not sure. Hopefully only a couple more hours. My flight to Naples is delayed,” Lexa says, tentatively. Clarke is still a stranger, who’s making herself very comfortable, picking up Lexa’s bag and handing her so she can put it somewhere else.

“Reason why I’m on Tinder in the first place,” Clarke says, wiggling her eyebrows to Lexa, making a grabby hands gesture towards her phone. “Okay, now let’s find you some horror stories to share.”

“You’re going to Naples as well?” Lexa asks, mindlessly handing over her unlocked phone to Clarke – maybe her trust builds up quickly, or she’s just surprised with how much of a coincidence it all is. Clarke answers her with a simple  _ ‘yea’ _ and she swipes down to find Tinder without digging through every folder. “Which seat?”

“3C,” Clarke says, without paying much attention to Lexa, too focused on the girl that popped up on Tinder – dark, messy hair piled on top of her head, a tattoo running down her arm, peace sign and a genuine smile. “Are you into blondes or brunettes?”

“I’m on 3D,” Lexa says, bypassing her question all together. It makes Clarke look up from the screen, meet Lexa’s eyes that look just as surprised as she is, and smile.

“Guess we were destined to meet, then.”

They spend the next almost three hours – the flight was delayed even  _ longer _ than they first anticipated – combing through Tinder to find Lexa a match. 

Lexa finds something wrong with every girl Clarke lands on, pointing out a habit she dislike or how their tastes diverge here and there. It gets to a point where Clarke makes a rule: if a girl has less than five things wrong with her, Lexa will swipe right. It’s how they end up chatting with three girls, one less likely to be a good match than the other the more they talk. Lexa is helpless when it comes to flirting, Clarke can tell that much by the answers she suggests, their first interaction being an accident at best.

But Clarke learns a lot about Lexa in this, from weird hobbies – who picks up penmanship in the twenty-first century anyway? – to similar habits. And Clarke shares a lot as well, definitely more than she would if they were talking through the app.

Time goes by fast when she’s talking to Lexa.

When they finally board and have to stop their little adventure, because they both refuse to pay for in-flight internet, they keep getting to know each other without any buffer. When their meals finally get to them, Lexa has already suggested they meet up in Naples to go to the beach – for Clarke’s sake – and then visit a few of the historic places – for hers, because of course Lexa would turn out to be a history nerd.

Clarke has never been so thankful for a flight delay.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://sassymajesty.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sassymajesty). And [here](http://sassymajesty.tumblr.com/writing) is a page with everything writing related!


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